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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290746">new sensations, sweet temptations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralgrime/pseuds/ephemeralgrime'>ephemeralgrime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ghost (Sweden Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, mountain grows ghoul weed: pass it on, that feeling of being in a very warm space with someone you love while it's very cold outside</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:55:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralgrime/pseuds/ephemeralgrime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend time with Dewdrop. That would be easy - Rain knows his silence can turn cold if he persists for long enough, and it’s simple enough to stonewall people he doesn’t like. Actually, the problem is that he wants to be with him so <i>badly</i> that he has to roll that feeling up tight and cram it in the back of his mind where he can pretend it doesn’t exist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dewdrop Ghoul | Fire Ghoul/Rain | Water Ghoul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>new sensations, sweet temptations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me: i'm going to write a quick little ficlet of dewdrop and rain smoking weed and making out, nothing fancy<br/>me 6,000 words of character work later: failed step one</p><p>i just really like the idea of rain having trouble controlling his powers just after being summoned, because the fodder for fic is never-ending, and gosh, I love rain/dewdrop! i hope i captured a fraction of how cute they are here. unbeta'd, so please be gentle, and feel free to let me know if you spot any commas out of place :)</p><p>heads up for consensual sex under the influence of Nonspecific Ghoul Drugs (TM). feel free to peace out if that's not your thing! &lt;3</p><p>title from hallucinations by pvris.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain is starting to regret accepting this invitation. </p><p>It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend time with Dewdrop. That would be easy - Rain knows his silence can turn cold if he persists for long enough, and it’s simple enough to stonewall people he doesn’t like. Actually, the problem is that he wants to be with him so <i>badly</i> that he has to roll that feeling up tight and cram it in the back of his mind where he can pretend it doesn’t exist. </p><p>And the idea of Dewdrop not only <i>thinking</i> about him when he’s not there, but <i>deliberately</i> making plans to invite him somewhere makes his stomach churn like a pot of boiling water, ready to spill over any second. The focus is too sharp. Best to escape the floodlight of his attention entirely and stick to the shadows.</p><p>Normally he invents an excuse or slinks away into his room during Peak Dewdrop Hours, but it’s the first real cold day of fall - that sharp kind of cold that makes him a little clumsy, and even his brain seems to be moving slowly - and his defenses had been down, and Dewdrop had just looked so warm and happy and <i>eager,</i> and he’d found himself saying in spite of everything: Yes, sure, he’d go visit Mountain with him. </p><p>It’s a long and chilly walk to the greenhouse. Plenty of time for Rain to wonder why <i>him,</i> which also means plenty of time for Dewdrop to chatter in his ear about Rain dodging his invitations. </p><p>“Like it’s such a crime to get you out of your room,” Dewdrop had said, finding Rain’s enthusiasm lacking. He’d sparked a flame to life on his fingertip, seeing how long it would last before the drizzle of the rain snuffed it out. As soon as it fizzled and smoked he lit another. “I just thought we could hang out.” </p><p>Rain hadn’t said anything then, just held up a hand against the spitting rain, feeling - uncertain. Assessing. Fraudulent, somehow, like the real person Dewdrop had asked to walk with him would jump out of the bushes any second now and he’d be excused back to his room. </p><p>He’s still wary now as Dewdrop pulls open the heavy door and the chilly fall air succumbs to the warm heat of the greenhouse, humid and hot as an open mouth. It makes his skin shiver a little.  He’s wondering if it’s too late for him to back out, but then they’re already in front of Mountain, and sweat is prickling at his chest, and the present is very much carrying on whether he wants it to or not.  </p><p>“Hey, M,” Dewdrop says, eternally casual, slinking along the edge of the wooden table where Mountain is working. Rain follows behind him, feeling heavy and awkward, ducking away from a low-hanging frond. “Got what we asked for?”</p><p>Dewdrop’s leaned over the table, playing with a pair of pruning shears, spinning them on their point and catching them before they fall. A cold flame of something like jealousy licks at Rain’s heels at the sight - Dewdrop fits so <i>easily</i> into this world. Into every world. Fire, water, earth, aether - effortless, like an oar dipping into water. </p><p>Mountain nods without looking up, distracted by the planters before him. He reaches a grubby hand into his apron and produces a tiny cloth sachet that he tosses to Dewdrop, then lifts a heavy-looking burlap sack onto the table from where it was stashed underneath. Dewdrop grabs both, balancing the sack on his hip.</p><p>“Don’t let any of the Siblings know,” he says, shaking the little sachet at Rain with a wink. Rain laughs a polite <i>ha ha,</i> not quite following. The commotion of the greenhouse, filled with so many earth ghouls he’s never met, is hovering just a hair above the threshold of sensory input that he’s comfortable with.</p><p>“Mmm, I don’t think it works the same way on humans,” Mountain says, frowning down at the pots before him. “Copia tried some when he visited the greenhouse last week. He just talked to me about model ships for an hour and took a nap.”</p><p>Rain pretends to cough into his elbow to hide his laughter.</p><p>“I don’t know, that sounds like the right idea to me,” Dewdrop laughs. Rain watches him press the little sachet to his nose and inhale deep. “Oh, it’s good. Thanks, M.” </p><p>Mountain gives a distracted thumbs up from where he’s bent over his work table. The rich black soil in front of him holds a row of delicate green shoots, fragile and newborn-looking, trembling slightly in the circulating air. He slides his hands into the moist dirt, all the way up to his wrists. Rain watches the seedlings start to swell and grow, visible even from where he stands a few feet away. </p><p>His power is unmistakable for what it is. Life-giving and undeniable, rooted to the earth and soil.</p><p>Not for the first time, Rain feels the inadequacy of his own fledgling powers like a weight around his neck. He flexes his hands self-consciously behind his back, wishing they could summon tides instead of droplets. </p><p>“We’ll be in the shed,” Dewdrop says, circling his fingers around Rain’s wrist and tugging him along, narrowly missing another earth ghoul walking by with a potted fern. “C’mon,” he says, leading him towards one of the exits. </p><p>Mountain's face falls just a little from where he's still bent over his plants. "Please clean up when you’re done," he calls after them, gesturing vaguely with a dirt-caked trowel in their direction. </p><p>“Clean up?” Rain asks as he lets Dewdrop guide him to the door. </p><p>"I think the girls sometimes fool around in there," he whispers to Rain as they leave. </p><p>Dewdrop shoulders the door open and Rain walks out after him like an obedient shadow, ears burning. The wet autumn air rushes in around them in a chilly gust, stirring the damp fall leaves at their feet. Rain shivers, wishing he’d worn another layer. It’s coming down in earnest now, splattering the roof of the greenhouse in a noisy staccato and soaking the grass around them.</p><p>“Shit, my umbrella’s by the door in my room,” Dewdrop says, adjusting the sack on his hip and looking up at the heavy gray clouds above them. “Can you…?” With his hands occupied, he juts his chin skyward.</p><p>Rain feels shame creep into his belly, cold and rushing in like river water. The most of his element he’s been able to control since he was summoned could be measured in quarts. “No, I-” he starts.</p><p>Dewdrop must have some tact after all, because he shakes his head and laughs. “Nah, fuck it,” he says, instantly recalibrating. “Let’s just run. Hold this?” he tosses Rain the little sachet, and then he’s tearing off across the wet grass towards the little blue shed, the sack from Mountain held over his head in a ridiculous pantomime of an umbrella. He whoops as he runs, hollering something Rain can’t hear through the distance and the rain, and then he’s waving his arms at the shed’s entrance, beckoning him closer, as if there was any question of where he’d gone in a straight line. </p><p>Rain feels a secret little smile sneaking onto his face. He imagines pressing it into the corner of his shirt, embroidering it there forever. A perfect happy memory to trace his finger over in the solitude of his room. </p><p>He slips the little sachet into his back pocket, and then he’s running too, laughing and almost losing his footing on the slick grass. He’s soaked to his skin in just a few strides, and the cold air feels like a lathe, paring him down to just the essential parts of himself, some secret core under layers of skin and bone. </p><p>He skids more than stops at the shed’s entrance, chest heaving, hair hanging in wet curls at his face. The shed is modest but sturdy, painted a cheerful, peeling blue. The windows are cloudy and beaded with rain, but he sees the blurry shape of Dewdrop inside, and he opens the door.</p><p>Inside, it’s untidy but cozy, with open bags of potting soil and chipped terracotta pots stacked in the corner. Rain spots a pile of books and a silvery hair clip forgotten in the corner and remembers what Dewdrop had said about the girls coming here, feeling his throat get hot. </p><p>“Gimme a sec,” Dewdrop says by way of a greeting, fiddling with something in the corner. </p><p>He’s hovering over a wooden bench with a ding in one of the legs, like someone banged it against something when they were trying to move it to one of the pathways in the abbey and it ended up here as a slightly damaged castoff. Dewdrop is fussing with something on the floor, and Rain sees a folded-up piece of paper under one of the legs when he stands up.</p><p>Dewdrop tests the leg, checking for a wobble. It seems to hold steady, and he sweeps his arm on the bench cushion in a wide arc, wiping away dried leaves and dirt. </p><p>"Sit!" he says happily, and Rain does, feeling a little self-conscious. Dewdrop putters around for a few minutes, moving a bag of soil to the corner and fiddling with the window latch.</p><p>Rain pulls the sachet from the unpleasant dampness of his jean pocket. Mimicking Dewdrop, he shyly presses the scratchy fabric to his nose and breathes in. </p><p>The scene of it is earthy and fragrant, complex in a way he can’t name. He thinks of cool, dark basements full of growing things. Green glass jars and fermentation. There’s an edge of sweetness too - maybe apples or apricots. It smells like the bright summer sun and the dark cool shadows too, with something spiced and heavy lurking underneath. He places it reverently next to him on the cushion.</p><p>"Fuckin' - <i>rusted,</i>" Dewdrop mutters from where he’s bent over the window latch, dragging Rain out of himself, and then he lets out a little <i>Ha!</i>, and finally the pane of the window opens outward with a grinding sound. He sits on the bench next to Rain, spreading his arms at his work. </p><p>From the open window, they have a view of the western forest and black curve of the lake, its surface disturbed only by the rain. The trees ringing it are a palette of fall, red and gold and orange and fading into magenta. They look rain-slicked and saturated, bright against the gray sky around them. Fall captured in a frame like a picture on a wall. </p><p>Rain turns to tell Dewdrop that it’s lovely, that he didn’t have to go through the trouble of whatever he’s doing for him, and in fact he’ll be leaving soon to sit alone in his room - but then Dewdrop's already right there next to him, palms outstretched. </p><p>"Tilt your head a little - yeah, that's better," he says, crooking one of his fingers as Rain follows his instructions, angling his neck in the way that Dewdrop directs him to. He doesn't understand what he’s doing until he feels warm dry air ghosting around him, and - oh. </p><p>Dewdrop is drying him off. Rain realizes he must have worked his magic on himself already, because the silvery spill of his hair is only a little damp around the edges, curling just at his temples. </p><p>There’s a soft little ringlet right at the shell of his ear. Rain fights the impulse to tug on it. </p><p>“Oh my god, your <i>face,</i>” Dewdrop says with a laugh, angling his wrist while Rain tips his head the other way. “Like I would let you sit here all wet. Fuck you, I can be nice.”</p><p>If Rain’s face gets warm then, maybe he can blame it on the dry heat that floods through him through Dewdrop, from the crown of his head to the heavy wetness of his pants where they cling around his ankles. He notices Dewdrop is barefoot and he shucks off his shoes too, peeling the muddy socks from his feet and laying them carefully over his ruined shoes.</p><p>If Rain were a better water ghoul, he could dry himself off, or turn the rain into mist - maybe even drain the lake and fill it back up. But he’s not, and he can’t, so he sits here instead, obedient and silent in the sanctuary of the shed, and lets himself be warmed. </p><p>"Thank you," he says a few minutes later, sitting cross legged and dry on the bench cushion. Tucked in a little square of warmth with Dewdrop with rain thrumming overhead, he feels deeply included in a way that feels too big to say. </p><p>"Oh, don’t thank me yet. We haven't even gotten to the good part," Dewdrop says, sing-song, and Rain can see he's uncinched the drawstring of the sachet and is tipping some of its contents out onto a square of paper. </p><p>"What is it?" He asks, peering over Dewdrop’s shoulder and very carefully <i>not</i> hooking his chin there. </p><p>Dewdrop licks and twists the ends, then hands the rolled-up paper to Rain, who pinches it between his fingers suspiciously. "You smoke it and it makes you feel good," he says simply. "A lot of us do it. Gimme a sec and I'll show you." </p><p>He takes it back from Rain, then holds his pointer finger to the end of it. A tiny flame springs to life there, and Rain watches the tip of the rolled paper glow red and black as the paper smolders.</p><p>Dewdrop takes a long pull from it, the tip flaring red and hot. His narrow chest swells while he holds the smoke there. Rain observes him exhale slowly, his lips in a tight little flat <i>O.</i> Sweet-smelling smoke escapes through the narrow space there, filling the small space in the shed with a hazy perfume.</p><p>“Is it-” Rain works his mouth, trying to think of the least embarrassing way to ask this. “Allowed? Is that why we’re hiding here?”</p><p>Dewdrop smiles as best he can around the tight circle of his lips, still blowing out smoke. He coughs a little while he laughs, but there’s nothing cruel in it. </p><p>“You’re so cute. <i>Yes,</i> it’s allowed. You don’t think I’d get you in trouble, right?” Now he’s smirking, and Rain feels a little ribbon of heat in his belly at the sight.</p><p>“I don’t - do you really want me to answer that?”</p><p>Dewdrop blows the last of the smoke right at his face. Rain scrunches his nose.</p><p>“Oh, fuck you,” he says cheerfully. “Also, we’re not hiding here. I just thought you might want a little privacy. A little, like, you know. One-on-one time.” Dewdrop holds up two fingers, a little pantomime Rain and Dewdrop, and wiggles them. “We bring this into the abbey and we’ll be waist-deep in other ghouls. I know you don't like crowds."</p><p>“Oh,” Rain says, because he can’t figure out how to say <i>I didn’t know you noticed</i> without it sounding wobbly. </p><p>"You want to try?" Dewdrop asks.</p><p>Rain nods, feeling a little prick of daring in his heart. Dewdrop’s fingers are very warm against his as he carefully plucks the joint from his hand. He thinks of the smell of the fragrant darkness - earth and sun and spice - and brings it to his lips.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>At some point - and it’s a little hard to pin exactly <i>when,</i> because it’s all running together rather inconveniently - at some point, they stopped smoking their own joints and started sharing, and it’s entirely possible that someone rolled another one, and now here they are.<p>The burlap sack Dewdrop had carried from the greenhouse turned out to be full of peaches that were heavy and blushing with the fullness of summer, even in fall. Apparently - Dewdrop had told him as they each ate one, and then another, and another, because Rain hadn’t realized how <i>thirsty</i> he was until he was licking the pit clean - Mountain had done something different with the soil this time, and they got to be the test subjects. </p><p>Now Rain feels pleasantly heavy, all liquid and warm and sweet, like he’s sleepy without actually being tired. He’s been sitting here counting the leaves on the closest tree outside, feeling all his nerves sing in idle happiness for an unknown amount of time. He thinks about sitting up and telling Dewdrop about it, but when he tries to raise himself up from where he’s slumped on the bench, he gets a headrush that makes him feel like a listing boat, so he stays put and lets his head roll back and forth on the back of the bench in happy silence. </p><p>Outside, the rain drums on.</p><p>He realizes, suddenly, like surfacing from deep water, that Dewdrop’s been talking this whole time, and he’s only just tuned in. </p><p>“What?” he asks blearily, rubbing the heel of a hand into his eye socket.</p><p>“Oh my <i>god,”</i> Dewdrop laughs, and even stoned and lead-limbed, it's a full-body experience, with his shoulders and arms and hands involved. Rain feels a smile sneaking its way onto his face just watching him. “I just said this whole speech and you <i>weren’t even listening.”</i></p><p>“Oops,” Rain says, then covers his mouth with his hands as a giggle threatens to break loose. Dewdrop snorts, and then Rain’s dam against laughter can’t hold, and they fall together into a pile of giggles and loose limbs. Rain’s stomach swoops as Dewdrop paws at him while he cackles, the feeling of his hands cutting through the fog in his mind to sit heavy in his stomach.</p><p>“Okay, let me do - let me do a summary,” Dewdrop says, still laughing, trying to compose himself. “So, you know how Papa thinks someone’s stealing fruit from the kitchen." He can’t quite form it into a question because there’s a brief interlude where he can’t keep it together, but he pushes through. “He thinks it’s a masked intruder. But I think it’s Cumulus. She keeps trying - trying to make wine.”</p><p>“Oh my <i>god,”</i> Rain says, scrubbing his face with his hand, spending more time than is strictly necessary smoothing down his eyebrows, which feel very interesting right now. “She made you try it too? When she gave me a cup, I thought it was vinegar.”</p><p>Dewdrop is wiping away tears now as he laughs, the silent kind of laugh that feels like it could go on forever. “Stop, stop, my stomach hurts,” he begs.</p><p>“I saw Cirrus pour hers into that plant by the cupboard in the kitchen.” Rain muses for a second.  “I think it died.”</p><p><i>“Stop,”</i> Dewdrop begs, letting his forehead fall on Rain’s shoulder, shaking with it. There’s a little sliver of his face that Rain can see, and it’s all flushed and open and happy, like he’s just been scrubbed clean. Rain wonders for a moment - the idea flitting mothlike across his mind - if maybe he could get away with petting his hair right now. He plucks at the fabric of his slacks instead.</p><p>“You know, this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you since you were summoned,” Dewdrop says, finally recovered, wiping his eyes and sitting up. “Did I already say that? Or was I just thinking it?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Rain says, feeling a sudden prick of anxiety in his chest at becoming the center of the conversation.</p><p>“It’s just nice to see you happy,” Dewdrop says, turning around to face him. “I know it’s been…” </p><p>The atmosphere of the conversation shifts subtly as Rain feels himself stiffen. Dewdrop must feel it too, even through the smoke, because he looks at Rain in a blurry but determined sort of way. It’s like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s <i>not</i> using all of his conscious mind to focus.</p><p>“If you’re having problems, and I’m not, I’m not <i>saying</i> that you are-” he starts, fumbling immediately. “Fuck, hang on. I just meant-” </p><p>Another pause. Rain watches Dewdrop grimace at his words as they play back in his mind. He blows out a breath and almost looks like he’s squaring his shoulders, then plows ahead anyway with his usual wrecking-ball subtlety. </p><p>“It’s hard. It’s hard to be on Earth. It’s hard to be at the abbey, sometimes. We all had problems at the beginning too," Dewdrop says, fierce and quiet, eyes burning with intensity Rain hasn’t seen before. </p><p>Rain feels panic flare in him distantly, like storm clouds flashing on the horizon. He can’t have this conversation - <i>The</i> Conversation - now, the one he’s had so many times with the other water ghouls, and once, mortifyingly, with Copia, all of them painfully earnest and understanding. It would be easier if they were mad at him. </p><p>And it would be easier, he thinks, as long as he’s riding this eddy of misery, if he were <i>bad.</i> Bad can be refined. Bad can be trained. <i>Nothing</i> can’t be trained, and it can’t be discussed, and there’s no point in trying to make it better because there’s nothing there. Objects in motion stay in motion, and objects at rest - well. You know what they say about those. </p><p>But Dewdrop is looking at him with those big blue eyes, and the room is warm and humid with their breath and laughter, and he feels buoyed, like maybe he’ll land on soft ground instead of concrete if he jumps. He exhales and tries to figure out where to begin.</p><p>“When I try to pull from it,” Rain starts, haltingly. “My power, I mean. There’s something <i>there.</i> But I can’t access it. It’s like-” he sits back, feeling his head spin a little, like it’s rotating on some previously unknown axis. He closes his eyes and breathes in, smelling sweet apricot and cedar and a little curl of cold air coming in through the open window, until he feels steady enough to keep going.</p><p>“It’s like a tree or a boulder or something in a river. Like it’s blocked up somewhere in my - my mind, or something. And I can't move it or go around it.”</p><p>“What do you think it is?” Dewdrop asks. “The boulder, I mean.” </p><p>“Me, probably. I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair. His heart is pounding, but it feels easier to talk now, like something icy inside him has thawed. “It just - it’s like I’m speaking another language than the water is. But this is the only language I <i>know.</i> And it won’t talk back. And I’m… alone.”</p><p>There’s a warm heaviness then as Dewdrop sets his head back down on his shoulder, more deliberately this time. Rain smells the earthy sweet smell of the smoke from where it’s gotten into his hair and something else - maybe shampoo. </p><p>“Look,” Dewdrop says, slow and thick, but coherent. “I used to be a water ghoul. Don’t forget. I know what it’s like to reach for that power-” Delicate fingers turn Rain’s hand over where it rests on his thigh, pressing it open, palm to the sky. The suggestion of hand-holding. “And just find it… gone.”</p><p>Rain lets his head tip back a little further on the wall, feeling his brain slosh around. Dewdrop slides a little closer, and the brush of his soft hair on his cheek sends Rain’s nerves sparking.</p><p>“Do you miss it?” Rain asks quietly into the top of his head.</p><p>So much time passes that Rain thinks maybe Dewdrop didn’t hear him, but he feels an imperceptible nod against his chest and the whispering rustle of his hair.</p><p>When he speaks next, it’s uncharacteristically soft, almost lost in the sounds of the rain drumming on the roof. </p><p>“I can still feel it,” he says. “The pull of the tide. Inside, I mean.”</p><p>If Rain closes his eyes, if he’s alone in his room, with nothing but his own misery and the blackness outside his window for company - he can feel it. The deep, dark pull of the lake, and beneath it - something else. </p><p>Rushing water, impossibly fast. A tide beneath the earth, or inside of it, or above it, or - somewhere. A body of water, vast and timeless. The source of all their power. </p><p>“I can feel it, but I can’t <i>use</i> it,” Dewdrop says. “It’s there but it’s - It won’t,” he says, and it’s not just sadness in his voice then, it’s something like heartbreak, when he says, “It won’t <i>listen</i> to me anymore. And I-”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Rain says, suddenly raw and fierce, because he knows this particular kind of misery. </p><p>“I know I’m - <i>me,”</i> Dewdrop says wetly, throat thick. The unspoken weight of <i>me</i> - too loud, too impulsive, barrelling through life without heeding the arrows that pierce your flank - hangs around Rain’s neck like an anchor. “But fuck, it’s awful. I just - what I’m saying is just. You’re not alone.”</p><p>Rain’s arms are around him before he can second guess himself. </p><p>Dewdrop is thin beneath him and furnace-hot, as delicate and finely-formed as he is warm. He presses himself to Rain like a brand, and Rain lets himself simmer, feeling his pulse jump in his throat. </p><p>“Sorry,” Dewdrop says against him, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes like he can scrub out the emotion if he tries hard enough. He shifts a little to face Rain in the cradle of his arms. “Sorry. If I’m fucking - fucking <i>crying,</i> ha - we’re too high. I’m- ”</p><p>But he doesn't get to finish, because Rain is dipping deep into some unknown wellspring of bravery inside his heart and kissing him. </p><p>At first there's nothing, just the heat of Dewdrop beneath him, suspended like ember jumped from a fire, and Rain's heart feels like he missed a stair, and he's about to pull back and apologize - but then there's a happy trilling little <i>mmmh</i> sound beneath him. Dewdrop kisses back, and Rain feels the weight of his worry dissipate like parting clouds. </p><p>Against his mouth, Dewdrop tastes earthy and sweet. He’s all the elements at once, wrapped up in soft lips and sharp teeth. A sliver of uncomplicated happiness, pressing its way into the center of Rain’s heart. </p><p>“This was supposed to be about you,” Dewdrop’s saying in between kisses, laughing, petting Rain’s hair. “I had this whole plan. You’re not supposed to be the one to cheer <i>me</i> up.” </p><p>“Too late?” Rain says on the edge of a question, and it’s kind of hard to kiss when you’re smiling so hard, but he tries his best. </p><p>Maybe he hasn’t figured everything out yet - maybe he won’t ever figure out how to master water or control the weather, and maybe the tide will never answer his call - but there are some things he can control. How he feels. The people he kisses. The press of his body against Dewdrop’s. </p><p>"Your lips are still kind of sticky," Dewdrop says suddenly against his mouth, which is very funny to Rain, and very funny to Dewdrop, and the whole thing falls apart for a little bit while Rain laughs into Dewdrop's shoulder, shaking with it. The pulsing happiness of the remnants of what they smoked, the press of their bodies close together, the warm, syrupy thrill that Dewdrop wants him - Rain is woozy with it.</p><p>Dewdrop's sitting in his lap properly now, and his smiling mouth finds his neck and presses his lips to the fragile skin there, sweet and warm. He tilts Rain's head up and kisses him again, sliding his hot tongue into his mouth, and all of the sudden Rain is very aware of the way their bodies slot together.</p><p>Very, very aware. His breath feels hot and sharp when he inhales. He can feel his pulse in his temple, his throat, and further still between his legs. </p><p>Slowly, he fits his hands at Dewdrop's sides, as timid as an uncertain dance partner. Feeling brave, he slides them just a bit lower, right at his slim hips. Gripping him there, Rain can <i>feel</i> the flex in Dewdrop’s legs a second later when he grinds up against him, deliberate and dirty.</p><p>“Fuck,” Rain gasps against him, and oh. Oh, he’s - very hard. The knowledge of this hits him in a strangely delayed way, like he’s booting up slowly and then all at once, he’s <i>on.</i></p><p>He feels - Well, he feels a lot of things. Mostly he feels distant and a little dizzy, but also sharply present in all the places he's being touched, like his body begins and ends at Dewdrop’s hands. A wave swelling and cresting, conducted by fire.</p><p><i>“Yeah,”</i> Dewdrop breathes into his mouth at the encouragement, and when Rain pulls back, his eyes look sort of blurry, but only a little. Maybe just enough to soften his edges for Rain to be able to handle him. His hips move in a slow grind on his lap. “Oh, fuck yeah. Can I - let me suck you off?” And then he’s scooting back and his <i>hand</i> is there, delicate and determined, cupping firmly over Rain’s cock. Rain actually bows forward at the touch, trembling like a pliable green sapling.</p><p>“You’re so hard,” Dewdrop says into Rain’s cheek. “Wow, fuck, you’re so hard.” He says again, dreamy and disbelieving, like Rain’s dick is the most incredible thing in the world. Rain is sure it’s not, but he’s content to let him believe it for now, if it keeps his hand moving. </p><p>"I - sorry," Rain says dumbly, laughing at himself as he says it.</p><p>“You’re so cute,” Dewdrop says, cradling his cheek and kissing him again, accidentally clacking his teeth against Rain’s smile. “Okay?” he asks, pulling his zipper down, hot sweet breath puffing on Rain’s cheek. </p><p>"Yes,” Rain says, breathless, still a little disbelieving, shifting to let Dewdrop push down his jeans until they’re bunched messily around his thighs. His cock juts up against his boxers, drooling against the fabric.</p><p>“Fuu-uuuck,” Dewdrop says, drawing the sound out. There’s color on the high parts of his cheek, a pinking at the tips of his ears. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear like he really wants to <i>concentrate</i> and get this part right, and Rain’s heart feels too big for his ribcage. </p><p>“You’re so into this,” Dewdrop laughs, tracing a finger up his cock, and this is the best, happiest version of Dewdrop, Rain thinks. Sweet and teasing and nice and just a little unpredictable. No sharp edges, just his bright, sparking mischief and his nimble hands, and the unbearable, thrilling intensity of his focus. Why did Rain ever want to run from it? </p><p>“God, you’re soaked,” Dewdrop says then, squeezing him through the fabric, and Rain thinks he could die if he keeps <i>saying</i> things like that, like it’s easy, like it’s nothing.</p><p>“Please stop talking,” he manages to get out as Dewdrop yanks his boxers down and his cock springs free. He's breathing quick now, his cock lying stiff on his belly between them. “I’m gonna -” and then he’s cut off by Dewdrop’s hand, touching his bare skin now. </p><p>He’s using the slickness already there to ease his hand, and then he's kissing him again, biting his tongue, and Rain’s just lying up against the bench and letting himself be wrecked a little. </p><p>“You, <i>ah</i> - Okay, hang on,” Dewdrop says, catching his breath, trying to focus, like Rain’s some big distraction. “I said I was gonna suck you off.”</p><p>He eases himself just before Rain, to his knees, wriggling Rain's pants down just a little further, and then all at once his mouth is there - hotter than anything Rain’s felt <i>there</i> before, wet and tight and strangely gentle, and he just lets himself drift. </p><p>It’s hard, later, to remember all the details. Rain only has snatches of memory when he revisits it shyly: The softness of Dewdrop’s hair as he gathers it off his shoulders to hold it in his hand, careful not to pull too hard, even when Dewdrop says it’s alright. The dark fan of his lashes when he closes his eyes and swallows around him. The color of his mouth, pink and smooth, like the inside of a shell. </p><p>“I like you so much,” Dewdrop says near the end, breathing hard, his hand sliding slickly around the length of him. Rain thinks maybe, maybe - he sees his other hand moving between his legs, like maybe he can’t bear not to touch himself too, and his pulse leaps higher. “We all do. It's okay."</p><p>It punches the breath out of him when comes - one hand still clutched in Dewdrop’s hair, feeling like he holds his heart in his fist. </p><p>He floats there, disantly feeling Dewdrop lick him clean like a cat, then bite him just a little in the crook of his thigh. </p><p>“What - <i>ouch,”</i> he says, laughing, feeling too woozy to really flinch away. “You’re so mean.”</p><p>“You like me,” Dewdrop says, matter-of-fact and happy, and of course he’s right, because Rain likes him with a ferocity that makes him ache. He looks a little wobbly, so Rain hooks him under his arms and helps haul him back up to his lap, laughing when he stumbles a little. </p><p>Rain’s still laughing - happy, giddy, when he unbuttons Dewdrop’s shirt to stroke his chest, then slides off his pants and takes him in his hand. When Dewdrop groans hot into his ear, when his lovely hair gets damp with sweat and tickles their faces, when he trembles and spends himself into Rain's hand, it feels so simple and obvious and nice.  </p><p>And Rain knows all at once that he got it wrong, that life isn't easy or effortless for Dewdrop - for any of them - but it's all the good things in between that make it worth it. A warm, dry space in the rain, or the tight press of someone else’s hand. Wanting and being wanted. </p><p>All the rest will come with time. </p><p>They stay a while longer, breathing each other in. Rain feels clear and true, a river with no obstacles. Just the easy, rushing feeling of belonging.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>They return to the greenhouse as the sun sets, a few peaches lighter and a little unsteady on their feet.<p>Rain sees Dewdrop’s sleeves hanging loose around his wrists as he opens the door and he realizes that they’ve mixed up their shirts, but Mountain has the tact to not say anything. Or maybe he’s seen too many people come back from the shed with their pants on backwards to care.</p><p>“Oh, you're back. Was it good?” Mountain asks, trimming the leaves of something large and thorny. “The herbs, I mean. You look so blissed out.”</p><p>Dewdrop coughs conspicuously. Rain rubs the back of his neck, but it’s shy pride he finds heating his cheeks, not embarrassment.  </p><p>“It was good,” he says, and he feels the certainty of his own words like a stone, smooth and true. “I just feel... a little more myself. Thank you,” he says, and he means it. </p><p>Dewdrop takes his hand in his when they leave. They run back to the abbey through the rain, their laced fingers a lattice, ready to catch Rain if he falls. </p><p>For the first time since he’s been at the abbey, he means it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading!! &lt;3 if you made it this far, even an 'i liked this' will make my day &lt;3 :)</p><p>on tumblr @ ratballet~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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